


Nobody's Looking

by orphan_account



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Nobody's Looking

Peter knew he was supposed to be spending every waking moment of free time preparing himself -- learning how to summon and control his abilities, learning how to keep from going nuclear, as Claude kept putting it. It wasn't as if he didn't have _plenty_ of free time without a job and without much else to do, and it wasn't like he didn't understand just how completely serious it was that he learn how to control his powers while he still could...

It was just, the messages on his voicemail were starting to wrack up, and Peter wasn't entirely sure he could keep dodging everyone left and right, even if he could turn invisible.

Peter stepped out into his living room, yawning, his hair tousled from the night's sleep. He hadn't gotten much, and his body ached from the workout Claude had put him through the night before. Shouldn't ache go away, same as injuries? Peter would have to ask Claire about that one.

That was when he noticed the answering machine's light, blinking red on the small end table Peter had set it on. The tiny screen in the middle was made to show the number of messages, and usually it sat at a healthy "zero", but today? The number was much higher. Peter wondered when that had happened. When was the last time he'd checked the messages?

He sighed, passing by the machine for now and going to the kitchen. Peter grabbed a glass bottle of Starbucks vanilla latte and moved back into the living room, flopping down on the ratty armchair next to the end table. He popped the lid off the coffee and reached over, hitting the small, flashing button on the machine to let the messages play.

 _You have three new messages._ Peter groaned. It wasn't necessarily that many, but he didn't really care to listen to messages. _First unheard message._

 _"Hey, Pete."_ It was Nathan's voice. _"Listen, nobody can find you and we're all starting to worry. If this is about that stuff about detaining my mentally unstable brother for his own good... I didn't mean it, okay? Just come on back around, we're... I'm worried about you."_ **Beep.**

Peter frowned a bit, reaching over to delete the message.

 _Message deleted. Next message._

 _"Pete, it's me."_ Nathan again? Peter smiled a little. _"C'mon, Pete, stop being stubborn, you're starting to get ridiculous. There's no reason to push me and Mohinder away. We're trying to help you. At least me."_ There was a pause, and Nathan sighed into the phone. Peter loved the way Nathan's sigh sounded into a phone -- an audible, almost tangible burst of air from between Nathan's lips, a touch annoyed, but always so emotional. He wasn't sure if that was quite the right word, but there was something... soft and sweet about it. _"You know where to find me."_ **Beep.**

He saved that one.

 _Message saved. Next message._

 _"Come home, Pete."_ That was all it said. **Beep.**

Peter stared at the machine. Was Nathan... really that worried about him? Peter had disappeared literally into thin air for three days and Nathan sounded like he was going to organize a search party. Peter felt... guilty.

Finishing his bottle, Peter reached for the phone, dialing Nathan's number. He was supposed to be training today, but he at least had to let Nathan know he was okay... he couldn't completely ditch all his responsibilities. Nathan's giggly receptionist picked up on the third ring.

"Office to elect Nathan Petrelli, this is Cara speaking, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Cara." Peter sighed, somewhat frustrated that Nathan didn't have (or wouldn't give?) a number for his private line. "It's Peter."

"Hi there, Peter," Cara replied. Peter could practically picture the girl, legs crossed, French-manicured nails twirling the phone cord between her fingers. "I bet you want to talk to Nathan, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah," Peter said, "Could you transfer me?"

"Hm, lemme check." Cara set down the phone, and Peter could hear her voice, quite loudly, as she yelled for Nathan. "Mr. Petrelli! Your brother's on the phone!"

Peter heard Nathan's voice in response -- no actual words, just the familiar timbre and pitch of his voice. He strained to hear what Nathan was saying, but it was a no-go.

"You got it," Cara replied, and she picked up the phone, a rustle of fabric telling Peter she probably had it cradled between her shoulder and ear. "I'm gonna go on and patch you through to him, mmkay?" she said.

"Thanks," Peter muttered. A second later, and Peter heard a series of clicks. Nathan picked up the phone.

"Pete." It was all he said at first, and Peter sat there, feeling awkward. He stood, pacing his living room.

"Hey, Nathan," he answered, finally. "...I got your messages."

"You're damn right you did," Nathan said, irritation quite apparent in his voice. "What the hell, Peter? You disappear leaving me and Mohinder standing in your apartment, nobody can _find_ you, meanwhile I'm trying to run a campaign here, and--"

Peter rolled his eyes. He knew that Nathan would eventually turn all this around on him and his campaign. It was the light of his life. Peter wondered how Heidi could stand it. She'd already called Nathan's campaign his "mistress" to Peter once before. There'd been a smile on her face, as if she was making a joke, but Peter had noticed the tone in her voice to be something a little more serious.

"It's not all about you, Nathan," Peter growled. "Listen, I'm sorry that I disappeared like that. I just wanted to tell you that I'm okay so you'd stop worrying about me."

Nathan sighed. Peter could picture him sitting at his desk, massaging temples with one hand, phone in the other. "I was worrying," he said, finally.

"I know you were," Peter answered. He grabbed his glass bottle, taking it back into the kitchen and slipping it into the small blue recycling bin he had set up. "I'm sorry."

"You're always sorry, Pete," Nathan answered, quietly. Peter sighed, leaning against his kitchen counter. Nathan was being a little harsh. Just as he was about to open his mouth in his defense, Nathan interrupted him. "Listen, you, ah, you busy? We should grab some lunch. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh..." Peter actually felt himself smile. Nathan wanted to see him? "No, I'm not busy." That was a lie. Peter had back-to-back training planned with Claude, his own personal work-out trainer. It wasn't exactly training he could skip out on. Even if Claude didn't bother to come track him down, Peter knew it was for his own good. Not to mention the good of all the people in Manhattan. Without training, Peter wouldn't be able to control his power, and...

Lost in his own trail of thought, Peter didn't even realize Nathan was talking to him.

"--at that place down on Fifth avenue below Rockefeller Center. You want to meet me up top and we'll go down together?"

"Huh?" Peter paused a moment, registering Nathan's words. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Now?"

"Yeah, now. It's one o'clock, Peter. Lunch time."

"Heh, right." Peter didn't dare let it slip that he'd just woken up. Jeez, what was he doing, sleeping in so late? "I'll see you there, then."

"See you, Pete." Nathan hung up, and Peter after him, his head still swimming with thoughts of his dream. Of being in Manhattan, all the abandoned cars, Nathan walking towards him with a purpose, that calm, cold look on his face. The same look he'd had when he'd turned and gotten onto the military plane to Rwanda... Peter just barely remembered it. And Peter's own hands, letting out a sick, orange glow... he could feel the heat coming off him, could see Claire's face, panicked eyes, head shaking as she turned away...

If he was going to spend time going out with Nathan, Peter reasoned, he needed to make the most of it. He needed to spend that time using someone's power. Someone he wasn't with, for practice. But whose?

Peter sighed. He couldn't really think of anything. It wasn't like he could spend the whole lunch cutting himself and healing or moving the things on their table around with his mind. Even if he was discreet, Nathan would throw a fit.

Peter thought about it the entire cab ride over. He thought about the exercizes he'd gone over with Claude, running over every power in his mind, every person he tied it to. He'd already figured out that in order to use that power, he needed to think of the person he'd gotten it from. That much was obvious. At least, Peter thought, it was a breakthrough, a step in the right direction... he wondered if he'd be able to do some of the things Claude had been trying to get him to do at first now that he'd figured that much out. It wasn't like Peter was interested in going purse-snatching, but if he could get invisibility to work, he was sure it would come in handy somehow...

Stepping out of the cab, Peter paid his fare and moved across the street, already spotting Nathan's tall form in the crowd, standing a ways off from the fountain. Peter jogged to meet him, and Nathan turned just as he did.

"Hey, Pete." Nathan pulled Peter close in a hug. Peter returned it, warmly, taking in the smell of Nathan's clothes. He smelled... good. Nathan released him, stepping back a bit. "You look... nice."

"Yeah, yeah. No need to sugar-coat it," Peter murmured, pulling a bit selfconsciously at his jacket-hoodie combo.

"I guess my first question is 'where were you'," Nathan murmured. Peter sighed. Of course there were going to be questions. "I've had people looking, you know. It's like you just disappeared."

Peter lowered his voice a little. "That's because I _did_ ," he said. He took Nathan's hand, beginning to walk towards a nearby alley, pulling him along. "I can show you."

Nathan sighed, letting Peter pull him along. They ducked down a small side street, and Peter held onto Nathan's hand as he focused, trying to think of Claude. Trying to be invisible.

"Pete," Nathan said, impatient, "what are you doing?"

Peter grinned, and, still holding onto Nathan, stepped out into the street as a taxi cab raced towards them. Nathan was looking from the taxi to his brother, eyes slightly wider than normal.

"Pete," he warned, his voice a little sharper than before.

"Just before it hits us, fly us into the air," Peter answered, his eyes sharp and focused. Nathan nearly went into spasms.

" _Into the air_?" he asked, incredulous. "Pete, in _public_? Are you out of your--"

But before they could argue any further, the cab was only inches away, and Peter squeezed Nathan's hand. Nathan cursed, and soon, they were in the air, looking down at the gardens on top of the Rockefeller complex.

"Somebody is going to see us," Nathan growled.

"Nobody can," Peter said, quietly, holding onto Nathan for dear life. "I told you. I'm invisible. And--" Peter tightened his hold on Nathan for effect, "now, so are you."

Nathan looked surprised. He looked at Peter, frowning. "...Where did you pick that one up?"

"From some guy who uses it to steal people's purses and stuff," Peter answered.

"Great." Nathan glanced down, thinking. "I guess this explains where the hell you've been all this time."

"Stop looking down," Peter said, annoyed. "Nobody's going to see us. I promise."

Nathan squared his gaze back on Peter, frowning. "And what kind of good can you do with this power, Peter? Stealing people's purses to get by? Do you realize how wrong that could go?"

Peter sighed. "I didn't say _I_ used it to steal people's purses," he said, faintly noting the feeling of the ground getting closer as Nathan slowly eased them back down. They were standing back in Rockefeller Center, in front of the fountain. "There _are_ better things to do with it."

"Like what," Nathan asked, obviously not convinced -- with either of the things Peter had said. Peter leaned in, kissing Nathan, suddenly, hard.

Nathan pulled back, looking surprised, and then quickly looked around. With Peter's hand still entwined in his, nobody had noticed the two men -- one a budding Congressman hopeful -- kissing. Finally, Nathan's gaze rested back on Peter, an unreadable expression on his face.

"So _this_ is what you want to use this power to do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What are you going to do next? Parade down the street completely naked?"

"Where would the fun be in that?" Peter asked, smirking. "You wouldn't be able to see me."

Nathan rolled his eyes, momentarily considering wrenching his hand out of Peter's grasp before realizing how strange it would look if he just suddenly appeared out of thin air.

"You're really serious about this," he asked, his gaze steady. His voice was so low Peter had to strain to hear. "I'm going to assume that you can't block _noise_ , just the ability to be _seen_..."

"Well, yeah, it seems that way..." Peter glanced around. "Why?"

"Because," Nathan murmured, stepping in a bit closer, "you are _loud_."

"Wha--" Peter almost got out a complete word, but was thwarted when Nathan swung up his free hand, cupping the back of Peter's head, kissing him, hard. Peter's eyes went wide -- he'd used it as an example, as proof to Nathan that they were, in fact, completely invisible -- he hadn't expected Nathan to take it as an invitation to do whatever he wanted.

"Even if we _can_ stay invisible," Nathan whispered, "this isn't the best place to do this. I have a _much_ better idea."

Peter latched arms around Nathan just as they began to lift into the air, his fingers gripping into his brother's body, dazed that he could inspire such sudden desire in Nathan with one simple kiss.


End file.
